A Friend is Forever
by Katie the Elf
Summary: A very angsty story about an AU where Legolas is recovering from a three year torture with Saruman. CHAPTER 4 IS UP!!! THIS IS NOT A ROMANCE! Frodo relives Helm's Deep through the eyes of a dieing man.
1. Torture

A Friend is Forever

It is quite dark, cold, and dirty dungeon of Mordor. I was once a creature about the opposite of this place, my home. I was fair and graceful, delicate and nimble. But not anymore. I am destined to rot away in this dungeon for all eternity. And I will be there for all eternity as well.

            I am Legolas, the Elven prince of Mirkwood, and I am trapped alone in this dungeon, weak with hunger, for the orcs feed my only once a week, and even then it is only a small bit of food. I cannot move, for my hands and feet are chained to the wall. There is a ring of blood where the chains pierce my skin. 

            I suppose I deserve this punishment. All along the way, I could feel the darkness descending upon us. I should have told the others. From the moment Boromir died, I knew the Fellowship was broken forever. Merry and Pippin kidnapped, Gandalf and Boromir dead, and of course our Ringbearer and his servant running off to Mordor on their own.

            When we finally found Gandalf, I suppose I thought there was hope left. Now I see there is none. None at all. I will die of grief here in this cold dungeon. There will be no one here to save me.

            Saruman enjoys coming in here to torture me every once and a while. I used to be ready to fight him, try to escape, no fear inside. But as the endless hours of uncontrollable pain, with no bow or sword to fight with, I have lost the will to fight. Now I cower at his shadow. But I do not show it. I am afraid, but he will never know that. The longer the agony of the torture goes on for, the more I forget of my grief. I often wonder whatever happened to Gimli, my good dwarf friend. Or Aragorn, our fearless leader in times of need. Or those poor, brave hobbits.  

            Here he comes again. The door creaks open, and slams shut. I hear the growls and roars of the orc guards, bowing to their master and praising him in their own tongue. He comes, his bright, white robe standing out among the all the black and darkness, much the same as my blond hair and pale skin often did. He glared at me, and I did the same.

            "Well, if it isn't my miserable little captive. Enjoying your stay here in my palace?" He laughed. I did not respond. Although this sort of behavior would just encourage him, I have my pride even after all these years of imprisonment. "You will not speak again, elf? I'll make you scream." With a wave of his staff, the torture began once again. 

It was like a thousand knives hitting every part of my body at once. I couldn't breath, and I wanted to yell and cry. I wanted to run and run, giving up all. But I would not. Could not. I would not show him fear, hatred or any signs that I was in any pain at all. This was only the beginning. He only wanted to make me weak, so he could undo the chains and let his real fun begin.

Saruman cackled, as he watched me gasp and struggle for breath. He undid the chains, and I collapsed upon the floor. He waved his staff, and sent me flying to the roof. I hit the roof with a crash, and cringed. I felt blood surge out of my back, dribbling down my leggings, which were already stained with blood from previous beatings. I dropped to the floor, and got the wind knocked out of my lungs. He gave me a moment, than sent me headfirst into the corner. My once beautiful blond hair was now stained with blood. I was than punched at 60 miles per hour across a ten-foot space into the other wall. I lingered there, where I shook uncontrollably. He was shocking me. I felt like I had entered a fireplace. I was burning, but not slowly. The more I shook, the more shock I felt, until I finally dropped onto the floor.

I had not screamed once.

"Name your master, elven slave of the Dark Lord!"

At that moment I would have spoken his name, if it weren't for a sudden wail. Was it my own? No it wasn't. It was an orc wail. An orc had just died. I hadn't heard that sound since before I was captured. Saruman truned his back to me. Into the cell ran Aragron, Gimli, Gandalf, Sam, Merry, Pippin and Frodo. It's been long since I had smiled, but I smiled than.  Saruman's power alone could not hold back the brute force of a dwarf, the cunning of a man, the power of a wizard, or the surprising bit of persistence of a team of four hobbits. The rest of it was quite hazy. I was still dazed from the torture.

The hobbits picked me up, while Gimli and Aragorn took care of the orcs outside my cell. Gandalf and Saruman began to settle the fight they've had since Saruman first turned on us. 

"Come on Mr. Legolas, sir." Said Sam. I missed his voice as well as his face. The same with the rest of them. "Let's get you out of here." 

The hobbits carried me out of the cell. Gimli and Aragorn had quickly taken care of the small number of orcs there were out there. Gandalf quickly joined us when we escaped out of the dungeon. He was not a match of Saruman, but could escape his clutches.

I braved a weak smile when Gimli looked at me. I could not speak, but Gimli got the message. I had missed him terribly. Perhaps there can be a friendship between elves and dwarves. In turn the others got their own message. Everyone one of us had a bond that could not be broken. It wasn't a physical one, or a magic one. It just was.

The torture and agony of those years in the dungeons seemed to be forever to me, but it was only of strand in the great web of eternity. Only one thing can last forever. 

Friendship is forever.


	2. Return

A/N I really did not mean to continue this, but I got 10 reviews!! I'm going to see how long I can keep this going, however I am not famous for finishing stories ^^;; I also never intended for their to be any slash or romance. I am not a romance writer, and most likely never will be. Any "slash" you think you see is really just friendship. They feel love for each other, but not in that way. The rest of the story will be back in 3rd person. Also, if I ever type Aragron instead of Aragorn, please ignore me because I pronounce it that way not matter how much my friends yell at me. Sorry. ^^;; Here we go...

            "How will he be, Lord Elrond?" 

The company had reached Rivendell in days time with the help of a league of men and elves. An army had set out to destroy what was left of the orcs in Mordor, and had hoped to recapture a very important piece of the original fellowship, Legolas. Now that they had him though, they didn't know what the future of his immortal life would be.

"I am unsure, Aragorn." Elrond said, pulling the sheets of the bed over Legolas' limp and lifeless body. "His wounds and scars will heal, but his heart will not. 13 years isn't long for an elf, but it is when you're starving in a prison like that one. He's alive, and will live. That is all that matters for most."

"All I want is for him to say something." Gimli begged of no one. "I know it in my heart he can hear us. But he has not spoken since we brought him here."

"That is something I believe we all want." Gandalf sighed. "He was a brave elf. And there was something astonishing about him. No elf is a better archer, it is almost unnatural. He was so kind to Gimli, an enemy by nature."

"Please, do not say 'was' Gandalf, my companion." Sobbed Gimli. "You make it seem as if he's gone already."

"My apologies." Gandalf said. "Ah! Here come the hobbits."

Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin dashed in the room and immediately began to blabber, breaking the awkward silence.

"Is he awake yet?"

"Of course not, stupid! He's still in bed!"

"Well excuse me! I didn't see that with Gamgee blocking the view!"

"Are you calling me fat? I'll have you know I've been on a sensible diet!"

"Oh hush it, you three."

"Like you're any better Baggins!"

"What do you mean?"

Out of nowhere a moan erupted from the bed in which Legolas was in. The hobbits hushed up. Legolas began to stir and whisper nonsense words.

"Don't hurt me, I promise I'll behave. Please... yes... master. I serve you, do not hurt me any more."

Gimli could not have had a bigger smile on his face. He was about to run forward and grab the elf in the biggest dwarf hug in this age. Gandalf stopped him just in time. Pouting, Gimli sat down on the chair next to the bed. Gandalf walked over and put his hand on Legolas' delicate face.

"No!" Legolas shouted as loud as he could which wasn't much more than a hoarse whisper.

"It's all right, my boy. No one will hurt you any longer. Open your eyes, for today is a new day. And today you have friends near by. Open your eyes, and see for yourself."

The gallant elf lifted up his sleepy eyelids, but only to close them again as he was exposed to the bright light. But he bravely tried again, and this time only blinked a few times.

"Gandalf?" The elf croaked. He attempted to sit up, but Elrond gently stopped him.

"You're still week, my friend. Lie down."

"Lord Elrond? Where am I?" Legolas asked weakly.

"You're in Rivendell." Gandalf answered. "We're all here, Legolas. Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Gimli..."

"Gimli? Aragorn?" Legolas tried to sit up again in the excitement of seeing his friends again, but let out another wail of pain.

"Legolas, my friend...." Gimli smiled. "You were trapped in Mordor's dungeons for over three years, if you don't remember. Saruman was slowly killing you."

"A three year torture." Aragorn tried to laugh. "Only you would survive that, my brave elven friend. Only you..."

The eight companions sat together, just looking at each other. Legolas could only remember a little of what happened in the dungeons. He remembered the wail of an orc, and the voice of Samwise Gamgee. And he remembered the pain.

The agony. The torture. The great and powerful suffering. He remembered his blood, and the constant sickness. Not even the elven healing ability could cure him of that kind of pain. Nothing could. And nothing would. The pain still lingered, and he wanted to die. But he could not. Aragorn was wrong. He was not brave. He was a coward.

Aragorn was the last one to leave Legolas' side that evening. Gimli would have been last, but he was weary and still healing from wounds of his own. Elrond had strictly told him to sleep. Aragorn sighed, for he was Legolas' friend, and felt his pain. Aragorn knew that Legolas was brave, but Legolas did not believe it himself.

Aragorn sighed again, realizing that after three years, he wouldn't believe it either. But he was not Legolas.


	3. Questions

A/N Small mistake in the last chapter. In the first bit, Lord Elrond says, "13 years isn't long for an elf, but it is when you're starving in a prison like that one." and than the last line says "Aragorn sighed again, realizing that after three years, he wouldn't believe it either." To confirm any confusion you might have, Legolas was there for three years. Yeah. Okay, remember this story is AU, or alternate universe. I'm going to clear up all the confusing stuff in this chapter, how he got captured and stuff. Okay? Okay! Let's go!

            Aragorn left Legolas' chamber late that evening. He felt foolish, telling the elf he was brave. He knew in his heart that the elf was, but the thought would only cause the elf suffering. He did not want to make his friend suffer. That was the last thing in the world he wished to do. Legolas had always been bright and never greatly worried before his capture. At least, if he had, he never showed it. But since he had come back, he had a faded light in him. He shook in his sleep, and of course when he had spoken for the first time. What had he said?

            "How is he, Strider?" Frodo's voice disrupted his thoughts. 

            "Frodo, you surprised me. He's all right, I suppose. He went back to sleep." Arargorn turned away to look at the stars. Frodo came up next to him. 

            "He's worried isn't he?" Frodo said. "Scared he is, I could see it in his eyes. You can tell from his voice. The poor elf seems to think Saruman's still going to hurt him."

            "Saruman's powerless now, all he had left was Legolas. And his orcs of course, but we took them out."

            Frodo didn't say anything. He stared longingly at the stars. Bilbo used to tell him that the stars could tell you about the past. If that was true, Frodo wanted to know if the stars could tell him why. Why did he have to suffer so much over those three years? Was it because of that ring? But no... the ring was gone. Sauron was gone. Evil was gone, for good. But pain would last forever.

            "Strider..." Frodo broke the silence after about ten minutes. "Please, tell me what happened. What happened at Helm's Deep?"

            "I fear it's not something we should talk about. Let us forget that moment until Legolas returns to us." Aragorn sighed. "Frodo my lad, I'm sorry this had to happen to you."

            "Bilbo said the same thing to me once..." Frodo looked away. "No, I don't want to forget it! Bilbo wouldn't want me too!"

            "Bilbo wouldn't want you to suffer over him! Bilbo would want you to be thankful that one of your brothers returned to you!"

            "I knew Bilbo better than an elf could if he spent all his immortal life with him!" Frodo yelled, angry now.

            "If you must know the story of Helm's Deep, I shall tell you. You are right; I did not know Bilbo as well as you. Frodo, you have suffered more than any of us. You had to carry the ring to Mordor with only Sam by your side, than resist the urge to keep it for yourself and have absolute power. Thereafter you come home to find your good elf friend was captured long before and you had no idea. Than just when you were getting over it..."

            "Than he died!" Frodo yelled through tears. "Than Bilbo left me! I had no one!"

            "You had me." Arargorn said. "And Sam, Merry and Pippin as well. And Gandalf! Gimli too! You had all of us, Frodo; can't you be thankful for what you have? Please Frodo, it's all over now. Bilbo died, but he died happy. He finished his book, he did. You remember the ending, right? 'And he lived happily ever after, to the end of his days.' That was true. He did. And now Legolas is back..."

            "Is he?" Frodo asked, wiping away a tear. "Or was part of him lost in Mordor?"

            Arargorn said nothing.

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Legolas lay asleep in his chamber, dreaming a gruesome dream. He was back in his dungeon, and was being tortured again.

            "Please stop!" Legolas begged. He had never done that before. He just let Saruman have his fun. Never let him know he was in pain. But this time Legolas could tell he was dieing. "Help! Gimli! Gandalf! Help!" Legolas cried as he was beat against the wall. Death. He could see it. It was coming. Faster, faster. Closer and closer with every hit. And Saruman just laughed through it all, while the elf screamed and cried.

            Legolas began to see happy times in his life. He saw over 2000 years ago, when he was 16 and hit his first bullseye. Climbing his first tree. Every moment his father told him he was proud of him. Lothlorien in the spring. He saw when he joined the fellowship and first met Gimli. He saw all of his friends. But than he was back in the dungeon. And the pain was still there.

            But so were his friends.

            "Help!" He wailed. "Please, Aragorn, Gimli, help!" But they just stood there, laughing, as Saruman cackled. His friends had betrayed him. The last joy that kept him from dieing of grief had left him. There were two ways elves could die. Grief or physical death. Saruman never wanted to kill him, only torture him and use him as the last bit of power he had. Now that he there was no happiness left, the only other possible death was out in the open. He saw it and grabbed.

            And than he was back in his chamber. The physical pain was gone, but he could still feel it in his mind. It was only a dream, he told himself harshly, but the pain was hard to convince. Where had his happiness gone? Where had his joy, his pleasure? He left it in Mordor. It left him every time his blood left him and landed on the floor of his cell. Every time that staff waved, a little more left him. Every time the door to the cell opened and Saruman entered, and the orcs snarled in praise of their master, and he saw a glimpse of death. That was when he forgot joy.

            He wanted to see his father again. He wanted to climb a tree again. Take a swim in the lake. Shoot targets. Something that would remind him of happiness. He tried to sit up, but his back hurt too much. He wailed again. Where was his healing ability? It might heal his scars, but it could not work on the wounds on his spirit. He could feel that dream, and it scared him. It scared him more than Saruman did. Saruman could be excused for his evil, but he could never forgive Gimli and Frodo or anyone else if they betrayed him.

            Was this some sort of message? A prophetic dream? No, he could not bare it if it were. Legolas seen prophecies before, but he knew it was almost impossible to tell a prophecy from a normal dream.

            Or nightmare.

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Gandalf was going for an early morning stroll along the pond in the heart of Rivendell. He enjoyed doing this each morning, for it was a way of clearing his mind of troubles and focusing only on the things that mattered. But this morning, there was not one thing that mattered enough to be thought of in his meditation. So he tried to think of the past three years. Sauron had been gone for about two and a half years, while Saruman and his orcs were drained of their power one year later. Of course, they had not been destroyed yet. 

            That was the reason the Men of Gondor and Rohan set out with the remaining seven fellowship members to Mordor. After Sauron fell, Saruman moved his forces to the more powerful Mordor. Rumor had it he was trying to become the next Dark Lord. But even after the dreaded slaughtering in Helm's Deep, there was still a large enough army, elves and dwarves as well, to wipe out most of the army in a final battle. In a matter of weeks, Saruman lost all power. All he had left was a small band of guard orcs and his prized prisoner from Helm's Deep. Legolas the Elf, Prince of Mirkwood.

            He remembered his fear when his elven friend was captured. He thought he would never see him again. Truth be told, he was terrified. He felt as if all was lost. Some thought Gandalf hadn't any fear at all. Hobbits at least. Dwarves and Men knew he was one of the bravest wizards out there. He proved himself worthy of the bridge of Kazad-Dum. Elves treated him as an equal. That's why he liked Legolas so much. Gandalf sometimes regretted being so much more knowledgeable than his companions. While Legolas acknowledged his greatness, but still treated him equally. It made him seem more of a partner than a leader. He liked that feeling.

            "Good morning, Gandalf." It was Aragorn.

            "Hello there, Aragorn." Gandalf smiled at the sight of his friend. "What are you doing out so early?" 

            "I should ask you the same, I suppose." Aragorn laughed. "I could not sleep. I was thinking of Frodo, and Legolas. Frodo wishes to know what happened," He paused, "At Helm's Deep."

            "Oh. I see." Gandalf looked away to the pond. "Always said he was curious for a hobbit. Just like Bilbo. Do you plan on telling him?"

            "I am unsure." Arargorn sat down next to Gandalf. "I have wondered why he did wish to know. It did not concern him. It was only men that were lost; Bilbo did not die in that battle. He didn't even die in battle, he was sick. Oh Gandalf, I am not the one to tell him! I would not know how to tell him. Could you?"

            "I would, but I do not know what did happen. I was not there. It was a horrible battle. Many men were lost. Gimli was close to death, and Legolas captured. How many men, not including yourself, were left after the battle?"

            "Eleven. With me and Gimli, thirteen." 

            "Odd." Gandalf and Aragorn sat in silence for a minute or two, watching the sunrise. "I'm assuming he wants to know because of Legolas. If you wish Aragorn, I will tell him, but he will not be happy. He wants the full story. But I will do my best. I know you don't want to relive that battle. You almost died yourself."

            The old wizard stood up and left, leaving Aragorn hanging on that last sentence.

a/n pointless chapter, but explains a little bit. What happened at Helm's Deep? Why did Aragorn "hang" on that last sentence? Will Legolas ever get better? Will Aragorn tell Frodo what happened? Will Katie ever answer these questions? Find out soon!


	4. Dreams

A/N Short chapter, but I wanted to explain some things and update for once. 

Inside a dream, Frodo stirred in his sleep. With a start quicker than lightning itself, Frodo sat up, clutching his chest. When he finally figured out he was in Rivendell, he breathed and felt his sweaty forehead. In the bed next to him, Sam rolled over and opened his eyes. Seeing that Frodo was sitting of in bed, he sat up himself.

            "Is there something wrong, Mr. Frodo sir?" Sam asked.

            Frodo tried to recall. It was a dream. A strange dream, actually, one of odd viewpoint. He was in the midst of a battle of some sort, standing up against a wall. It was familiar, almost a memory. He was inside someone else's memory, for the thoughts were not his. Some of the thoughts he would never have even dared thought himself. Besides, he clutched in his hand a sword that was not Sting.

            It was a terrifying dream.

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Flashback

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            I clutched in my hands my sword, my one protection and weapon in this world of death and destruction. Dead bodies lay staggered about everywhere. Men and orcs falling to their death with a stranging yell all over the place. Blood flooded the ground so you could not see if you were standing on dirt or a dead body. All around the screams screech and burn your ears. I felt like a ghost, the only one alive. I didn't know how many of my companions were dead. 

            This was a battle field.

            I scowled at the first free orc I saw. He caught my eye as I caught his. I charged to him with all my strength and hurled my sword to his neck. But he was no stronger than I. He deflected me with a blow to the shoulder, and I was knocked against another body, a living one.

            I hit dirt. No, not dirt. A body. A dead body, of a man, whom I saw to be the man called Enchilion with the elves. I mourned sadly yet quickly for the loss of such a brave man. But I could not mourn as quickly as I would have liked, for I noticed blood dripping down my chest that was mine. Half my shoulder had been periced in such a quick manner the fierce adrenline in my senses kept me from picking it up. I could not hold my sword. I picked it up in my other hand but I could not handing in as well. I had let my companions down. I closed my eyes like the coward I am, knowing that an orc would come along any second and destroy the rest of me.

            And I was right, for the next moment, a tall orc with blood red eyes and teeth as brown as the trunk of a tree. He kicked me and cackled. He lifted his sword into the air and hurled it down into my chest, straight into my heart, and out the other side. I cried out in pain and a head turned my way.

            It was a beutiful head. Long flowing blond hair and bright green eyes with a spark of life in them. And elven face. But the face was hidden by a mass of dirt and specks of blood.  He looked at me and his face fell to fear and sorrow. 

            "No!" He cried and rushed forward to the orc who befell me. With one swift movement he loaded his bow and show directly in the forehead.

            "Legolas, we must retreat!" Came another cry, as I did my best to stay alive for one last moment. The pain was searing through my veins, my heart was slowly stopping. 

            The blond elf began to run, but the orcs refused to leave the battle without a hostage. Six orcs at once seized the now elf, as he struggled and fought. He screamed and did his best to get free, but the orcs held him tight and one hit him on the head, forcing him to lay quiet. The man who had shouted before, who oddly was barely hurt, was now holding back a dwarf in tears.

            "I won't lose another Gimli! Come, you are hurt!" The dwarf reluctantly stopped, but raised his ax into the air.

            "I will avenge you, elf! I swear it!" 

            Those were the last words I heard. My heart stopped beating, and darkness came upon me.

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            "Mr. Frodo!" Sam was out of bed, shaking Frodo out of a trance. Frodo stirred. "Are you all right?"

            "Yes." Frodo lied.

            Now he understood. Now he understood why Legolas was captured. Now he understood why Aragorn could not relive that memory. Now he understood why Gimli had wept at the mention of Legolas. Now he understood why they had wanted to go after him so much.

            "Yes, I'm perfectly all right Sam."


End file.
